


Woozy with Cider

by fermentthemind (cats_cradle6766)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22365265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cats_cradle6766/pseuds/fermentthemind
Summary: “Trust you to order something calledbRosé,” Hajime scoffs, turning to him with a twist to his mouth.“The bartender says I have great taste,” Tooru tells him succinctly, sitting up a bit straighter.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 11
Kudos: 96





	Woozy with Cider

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: based on [this](https://twitter.com/SnuffyMcSnuff/status/1219741310938222593) and because I can't draw, I wrote :D. Title based on the song by the same name by [John Hopkin’s and James Yorkston](https://soundcloud.com/jonhopkins/james-yorkston-woozy-with).

If there was ever a season for hard cider, it had to be fall. Not that it was impossible to drink hard cider at any other time of the year, but there was something about knowing apples were in season, that the sweet and somewhat tart fermentation of the brew screamed cooler weather and fallen leaves that made it perfect. Of course, beer was just as wonderful, but there was something about the new rise in craft hard ciders that made the usual spread of hard ciders among the typical beer varieties that started surfacing around this time of year a bit more intriguing. 

At least, that’s how Tooru had explained it. It also helped that the hard ciders weren’t as heavy as the typical oktoberfests and stouts that somehow managed to crop up in abundance this time of year. The local pubs always had one anyway.

“You just like them because they’re sweet,” came the scoff from beside him. 

“I like them because they’re _good_ , Iwa-chan,” Tooru defends himself. He taps his fingers against his empty glass, somewhat impatient. The soft glow of the drink had left him feeling relaxed after a long day. They’d just put in an order for their second round of drinks, dinner taking a while with the kitchen backed up with the dinner rush.

It wasn’t common that they got to get out of the city, usually too busy wrapped up in work and other random stuff to really get time off like this. That was mostly why Tooru had booked this trip back in the sweltering misery of late July, knowing that if he didn’t book a weekend with his best friend, he’d have to settle for stolen dinners on work weeks and grabbing time in between schedules and the familiar morning run. In all honesty, Tooru hadn’t expected their weeks to fill up so quickly after graduation, but they had. Well, he hadn’t expected his to, but Hajime’s schedule suddenly full had caught him a little off balance.

So, he had found a small town in the center of hiking and outdoor sport country at an unreasonably low rate and booked it, texting Hajime immediately after and telling him to get the long weekend off.

It’s not really until they’re sitting together again, squeezed in at the bar in this bustling little town that he realizes how much he missed him. It had been a sort of slow ache he’d been able to ignore. It wasn’t hard to ignore either, considering it wasn’t the first sort of ache he’d had around Hajime. It all kind of bled together, and it’s not until now that he’s sitting with him, trading banter after a long day of kayaking the waters in the national park that he’s aware of it.

It would be very easy to blame the cider, but the one he’s just polished off was closer to fruit juice than anything. It’s there though, in the strong shoulders of his best friend pressing against his easily, setting the soft _ba-dum, ba-dum_ of his heart just a little faster in his chest. It’s not uncomfortable, instead pleasant, and he sighs, allowing the luxury of leaning into the familiar strength beside him.

“Oi,” Hajime says, pressing back gently. “You tired?”

“Hungry,” Tooru corrects. The arm Hajime rests over his shoulder should be casual, probably is casual, familiar and comfortable, like they’ve done it over a million times. They have, Tooru reminds himself. It still manages to make him warm and soft. He’s missed this.

“You better not snore tonight,” Hajime tells him, and Tooru sputters slightly. “I’ll kick you out of bed.”

“I don’t snore!”

“Hm, you used to. I doubt you’ve changed that much since graduation.” There is a smirk lingering around Hajime’s mouth, teasing. It’s so easy to fall back into _them_ , and they do until their food arrives. Hajime had ordered a lager for dinner, a bright and crisp beer that Tooru took no shame in stealing from him to declare whether it was decent or not. Hajime hadn’t bothered to steal Tooru’s cider (mostly because Tooru was coveting it for the sole purpose of coveting), which wasn’t a poor choice. In truth, Tooru liked the lager more, but would _die_ before admitting it.

Dinner over and Hajime letting Tooru absently ‘steal’ his fries while they basked in the noise of the bar and the indulgent bartender that kept doting on them, they sat in companionable silence. Tooru was comfortable, pleasantly warm despite the chill of the Northern air outside. In the quiet warmth, it’s easy to chat and catch up. They’d done a lot of that between the kayak trips that day, though a lot of it had to be shouted over the waves in the frigid water. Tooru’s socks are still a little damp, and he wiggles his toes. 

“If you don’t like it, just get another one,” Hajime interrupts Tooru’s thoughts. He nods at the unfinished cider that has warmed to an unpleasant degree in Tooru’s hands on the bartop. 

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” Tooru argues for the sake of arguing. 

“Then why aren’t you drinking it?” Rather than wait for Tooru to come up with an argument he _knows_ is a lie, Hajime snatches the drinks menu from under Tooru’s arms. Ignoring Tooru’s squawks, he flags down the bartender again. His lager glass sits empty in front of him, the head of the beer sticking in dried foam down the inside. He orders one of the pumpkin ales for himself, grinning handsomely at the bartender before shoving the menu at Tooru. “What do you want?”

The list of hard ciders is short, but Tooru’s gaze fixes on it regardless, eyes lingering on the one that had caught his attention when they’d come in and yet not ordered. “I don’t-“

“My treat,” Hajime interrupts him. When his arm had fallen lower, resting comfortably around Tooru’s waist is a little hazy in Tooru’s mind, but there it is. The weight of it sets another soft _ba-dum_ in Tooru’s chest, somehow spurring his incessant need to irk Hajime as frequently as possible. 

“I’ll have the bRosé,” he tells the bartender, flashing his best, most charming smile. Grin still on, he turns to Hajime and sees the expected deadpan expression which instantly tells Tooru _mission accomplished._

“That’s an awesome one,” the bartender answers, a light laugh as he takes the menu from Tooru’s hands. Tooru almost objects at his list of inebriants being stolen from him, but the bartender’s next words cut the protest in his throat. “Your boyfriend has great taste,” he tells Hajime. Then he walks away.

Tooru wants to call after him, tell him _no_ , say _I have better taste_ except he _doesn’t_ because he’s been mad about his best friend since… well, it’s been a long time. It takes him a moment of trying to unstick the words from his throat before he realizes Hajime is silent beside him. His arm is still wrapped around his waist, but he’s unmoving. Glancing at him, there is a small dash of color over his cheekbones, and he’s watching the bartender with a small sort of frown.

“That-“ Tooru has no idea what he’s about to say even as he opens his mouth.

“Trust you to order something called _bRosé_ ,” Hajime scoffs, turning to him with a twist to his mouth. 

“The bartender says I have great taste,” Tooru tells him succinctly, sitting up a bit straighter. He almost comments about the other remark the bartender gave them, but his tongue sticks. He steals another of Hajime’s cold fries again to swallow down the words. To their credit, the fries are _amazing_. Bless Hajime for taking the plunge and ordering the fries with truffle salt because they are ungodly good. 

“Keep stealing my fries and he’ll think we’re married next,” Hajime tells him. Tooru freezes. Mouth full of potato and mind warm and somewhat woozy from the cider, he can’t read the tone. That soft color is back on Hajime’s cheeks though, and Tooru _wants_ to push that button.

“I guess that means he thinks you have good taste,” Tooru says, and, seeing the bartender returning with their drinks, leans purposefully into Hajime heavily. He doesn’t move, and the bartender’s expression goes a little amused, a little fond, sending that _ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum_ a little louder in Tooru’s chest. Hajime’s arm is warm around his waist, comforting, solid, his hand resting against Tooru’s hip. 

“Pretty sure only the ignorant would think that,” Hajime scoffs, but doesn’t push Tooru away. He smiles at the bartender when he delivers their drinks. Tooru watches him, the way his lips form words when he asks for their check. They look soft, a little chapped from the autumn ocean winds during the day, but still-

“What?” Hajime is staring at him confusedly. “Is there something on my face?”

“Just the usual stupid expression you always wear,” Tooru says. It’s warm in the bar, the people on either side of them close. Reaching out, he takes the bottle of bRosé the bartender had left on a tiny napkin. Spinning it in his hands, he reads the alcohol content and description on it, something he’d not bothered with when ordering it. Raising it to his lips, he catches Hajime watching him.

“What?” he asks. That old familiar swoop that used to hit him unexpectedly when he’d catch Hajime looking at him like _that_ is back with that look. The faint color on his cheeks still there, maybe from the alcohol, maybe. . . 

“You’ve got potato on your face,” Hajime says, and smiles when Tooru sputters. There’s no hesitation when he reaches up to brush it off though. “You’re welcome,” he tells Tooru, lowering his hand.

“Maybe I wanted potato on my face,” Tooru shoots back, pushing down the flutters in his chest at the brush of Hajime’s lightly calloused hands. “Just to see if it tempts anyone to kiss it off.”

“Thought you were taken,” nearly has Tooru spitting out his drink. Thankfully, he hadn’t taken his first sip yet, but _oh_. The color on Hajime’s face is darker, his eyes avoiding Tooru’s and _oh_. 

For some _ungodly_ reason, it sends a wave of nervous flutters through Tooru’s chest. The weight of Hajime’s arm around him is heavy, comforting, but suddenly _more_ , making Tooru want to squirm. To press closer and needle Hajime with the burning questions that have sat in the back of his mind slowly driving him mad since he was still in a high school gym setting for his team. 

_Oh_. 

It’s not a definite, but it definitely leaves Tooru a little fuzzier as he takes a sip of his new cider and-

“Shit,” he says, pulling away the drink. It’s… surprising, to say the least. The drink had been described as a blueberry cider, something he expected to be sweet and sticky, over indulgent. It’s _not_ though, instead crisp and flavorful, refreshing and- “this is really good.”

“Yeah?” Hajime asks, a smirk on his face that teases the familiar disbelief he usually expresses when Tooru reviews _anything_.

“Seriously, it’s almost as great as I am,” Tooru states, just to push more of those familiar buttons. The _safe_ buttons (though he itches, especially now, to push the other ones too). “You wanna taste?”

There is a pause, a beat dropped, where Hajime stares at him and Tooru’s breath catches. How long has Hajime watched him like that? “If it proves you wrong, and I can make fun of you for ordering something called a bRosé for the rest of my life, then sure,” Hajime says. Tooru blinks. He didn’t expect Hajime to accept the offer. Belatedly, he realizes Hajime has put down his own drink, hand open on the bartop, expectant. 

“You wound me, Iwa-chan,” Tooru says, but the warmth, the weight, and the rose on Hajime’s cheeks are just enough for Tooru to take the stupid plunge and reach for those buttons he’s wanted to push for so long. “I thought you were supposed to be my nice supportive boyfriend.” He raises the bottle to his lips and takes a very pointed drink, watching Hajime’s expression fall. 

His eyes, though, are trained on Tooru. Well, Tooru notices with a sort of bubbly flutter and low grind in his chest, his mouth. 

“You going to actually let me try it before it’s just backwash or-“ Hajime starts to say, his brows lowering in a small frown that is _so much_ like a pout. The button is right against his fingertips, and Tooru lowers the bottle to meet Hajime’s gaze and feels a rush through him that has nothing to do with the cider (well, maybe a little. It _is_ really good).

“Here,” he says, smacking his lips, the bRosé tingling in his mouth. Rather than hand the bottle to Hajime, he reaches out before he can think himself out of it. Hajime’s eyes widen for a moment in surprise as Tooru’s hand curls carefully around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, and leans forward.

The button gives under Tooru’s desperate fingers, and he _feels_ the small hitch of breath before pressing his lips against Hajime’s parted mouth gently. It’s not like falling, mostly because a large part of Tooru is stuck still in the back of his mind surrounded by everything that had stopped him from doing this before. It’s more like the suspension of time between the leap to block a perfect spike and seeing the moment captured in stillness, the lack of breath, the sudden vivid detail of the smallest things, and the stillness that always manages to engulf his whole body in anticipation. It’s that sort of feeling, where the softness of Hajime’s lips against his are in hyper focus, Tooru feeling like his entire body is stuck in that contact, the weight of Hajime’s arm around his waist, fingers subtly pressing against his side at his hip hotspots of attention. Hajime’s blush that somehow manages to dramatically contrast his dark eyes as he looks at Tooru and Tooru wishes now that he’d closed his eyes for this.

He can still taste the cider in his mouth, the sweet-tart flavor of the drink heavy contrast to the softness of Hajime’s lips. It snaps the suspension, and suddenly Tooru is back to real time, where he’s kissing his best friend in a crowded bar with no other explanation than to prove a point about his drink and further a bartender’s misinterpretation. It sinks with the sort of disappointment and terror one gets after pushing a button and having _nothing_ happen, where Tooru is left with nothing but nerves and anxiety, the rush leading up to the kiss suddenly abandoning him just when he needs it the most.

Pulling back, can feel the loss, suddenly all too aware of how _nice_ it had felt to have Hajime’s lips against his. A little rough, a little chapped, a little startled and yet so soft, so nice and somehow _familiar_ against his, like they belonged there most of the time. Tooru knows he’s blushing, his face hot and the feeling of tension amidst all the flutters in his chest making it hard to breathe and regain himself. So he tries to laugh, a sort of strained giggle that sounds more like choking than anything.

“I’m-“

Sorry? Confused? Hopelessly into you? Whatever it was Tooru was going to say sticks as he catches how Hajime is looking at him: wide eyed and cheeks brushed with crimson, lips still parted in presumable shock and- and something else. Then his eyes drop to Tooru’s mouth, and he _licks his lips_. 

The fingers against Tooru’s side tighten and suddenly Hajime, against all reason and expectation, is leaning forward. “Hm,” is all he says as Tooru’s eyes widen at Hajime closing the distance (albeit short distance but _still_ a distance) between them and carefully, almost hesitantly kissing him back.

This time, it’s not like a frozen state of being, instead Tooru suddenly aware of _everything_ happening in perfect detail. The weight of Hajime’s arm around him, each finger pressing into his side, almost pulling him closer, how his own hand is still resting at the gentle curve of Hajime’s neck, fingers brushed into the soft and somewhat sweaty short hair at the nape is all in overwhelming detail. Most of all, the way Hajime’s mouth fits against his, his lips barely parted as they press against his own, soft and a little damp from the cider and his tongue. He can feel the soft puff of air from Hajime’s breathing against his skin, making it tingle, and he’s woozy all over, feeling too warm and soft and awake and comfortable all at once.

When Hajime pulls back, his eyes are heavier, though there is a small faint smile on his lips. “You’re right,” he says, voice a little quiet but Tooru doesn’t need to strain to hear him. The noise of the bar seems to have faded into a low pleasant hum around them. “It does taste good.” The comment sends a lash of heat through Tooru, and it is _entirely_ unfair how good that smirk on Hajime’s mouth looks, how badly Tooru wants to lean in and kiss it.

Instead, the warmth of Hajime’s gaze pushing some of his own buttons, mostly the buttons that are so familiar he doesn’t really think about them being there, he says, “almost as good as me.”

Then Hajime does the _worst best_ thing he could possibly do to Tooru and says, “almost,” before stealing the bRosé and taking a drink. 

“Hey! I didn’t say you could-“

But then Hajime is grinning, tugging him closer by the strong arm around his waist, and kissing him, and Tooru isn’t really interested in objecting. With Hajime’s arm around him, the warm feeling of comfort and acceptance replacing the low ache and nervousness that Tooru has been carrying for _so long_ silently, he’s more interested in letting his other hand come to rest against Hajime’s jaw. Just to hold, and maybe to offer himself a little stability as he kisses Hajime back, wondering if the feeling of satisfying woozy wonderfulness is from the kisses or the ciders. Probably both. 

A soft throat clearing has them parting, startling Tooru and suddenly the bar is alive again, loud and bustling and the bartender is standing opposite them at the counter. The grin on the man’s face looks victorious, his eyes flashing between the two. “I’d say _take your time_ with the bill, but I feel like you two are ready to head out,” he says, tapping a finger to the bill he’d placed on the counter.

Heat rushes to Tooru’s face as he realizes exactly those implications, and the wink the bartender throws them. Yet Hajime just lets out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling through him, and shifts to take out his wallet. 

“Aw, are you treating me to dinner, Iwa-chan?”

“Just the drink,” Hajime says, the tone short but his eyes alight with fondness and… something else now that Tooru realizes _is_ the affection he’d been too scared to recognize for a while. “I’m not made of money.”

“Or charm,” Tooru chirps, but refrains from being a huge pain in the ass and digs his wallet out of his pocket. “That’s why you have me, to make up for your overwhelming lack of it.” 

Hajime rolls his eyes, accepting Tooru’s crumple of bills and smoothing them out to combine with his as he places it on the bill. His arm drops from Tooru’s back as he straightens up to replace his wallet, and Tooru finds himself missing the warmth, wanting to grab it back. “Finish your drink, Tooru.”

 _Tooru_. It’s not often that Hajime uses his name, usually reverting to the casual and easy ‘Oikawa’ and ‘trashkawa’ that had been their normal for over a decade. The way he says it now brings that warmth back, and Tooru wonders quietly how long Hajime has used it, if he’d been waiting to use it like this. The thought sends a pleasant shiver through him. “You sure you don’t want to finish it with me?” Tooru teases, and has to laugh a bit at the dour look Hajime shoots him. 

And just like that, things settle back, the familiar bantering flowing between them as they sit together. The kisses linger at the back of Tooru’s mind, a slow hum like the absence of Hajime’s arm around his waist. It almost has him wondering if he imagined the whole thing, but the soft brush of color against Hajime’s cheeks, and the warmth in his eyes when they linger on Tooru keep reminding him that no, it was real.

“Have a good night, lovebirds,” the bartender tells them, picking up the cash on the counter. The comment sends another spike of warmth through Tooru and he glances at Hajime, suddenly nervous that he’d refute it. Despite the fact that they’d just _kissed_ in public, and that the way Hajime had acted had suggested anything else, there is still that soft gnawing fear, buried in the feelings at the back of Tooru’s mind, that Hajime would push back, push him away.

“Gotta get this one home,” Hajime tells the bartender, standing and placing his empty beer glass on the counter. He pulls Tooru up a moment later, the bRosé empty on the counter as well, and as easily as if he’d been doing it for _years_ slips his arm around Tooru’s waist. “He whines when he’s tired.”

“Cute,” the bartender says, smiling and winking at them.

Before Tooru can open his mouth and throw out one of his usual flirts in instinctive to the comment like _’why yes I am, how sweet of you to notice,’_ Hajime is pulling him away. 

“I do _not_ whine when I’m tired!” Tooru protests, even if he was. “And I wasn’t done.”

“You’re whining right now,” Hajime says, a bit of a laugh in his tone as he pulls Tooru from the restaurant. His cheeks are flushed again, a soft glow that Tooru finds so cute on his handsome face. 

“And you’re blushing,” Tooru says. Usually, Hajime will smack him for a comment like that. “Is it because of me?” he asks, because that _ba-dum_ is back and despite tonight, despite the arm around his waist, Tooru still-

“Yeah, maybe I am,” Hajime says, and the blush grows darker. He still looks at Tooru with that strong determination in his eyes, like he’s daring Tooru to do something about it, to make fun of him about it, that he’s not _scared_ of Tooru’s teasing, instead challenging him. “Maybe-“ his voice falters as they walk out into the cool autumn air. “I liked kissing you.”

“Of course you did, I’m a great kisser,” Tooru’s mouth says before he can stop it. He grins, because he’s not about to take it back, and the exasperated yet nervous look on Hajime’s face is _always_ worth it. The nervous _ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum_ in his chest has him wavering though, slipping his arm around Hajime’s shoulders to ground himself. It always helped, having the solid strong presence of Hajime beside Tooru, even when he was the cause that made Tooru feel like he was falling, falling, falling further off balance into the woozy cider of his heart. “I liked kissing you, too,” he says, admits, and feels the cold air sting against the blush on his cheeks. 

There is a soft sort of agreed silence between them as they walk down the street, Hajime’s arm strong around him. It might look to others like he was holding Tooru up to steady him. Maybe he was. Either way, Tooru _wanted_ that arm to stay there for as long as possible. Passing under a street light, Hajime lets out a sort of soft hum, pausing and stopping Tooru with him. “We should-“ he stops, and Tooru waits, watching. Nervous is not something he would frequently describe Hajime as, but- “never mind.” 

He looks nervous. That, somehow, manages to bust through Tooru’s own nerves. It had always been easier that way, seeing Hajime’s nerves when they did present themselves and shove him forward. In volleyball, school, career, that’s what Tooru always did, just like there was no one like Hajime to slap him out of one of his self-deprecating spirals to _focus_ on what mattered. “Iwa-chan, are you suggesting we kiss again?” 

“N-“ Hajime’s cheeks flush and it’s _delightful_ to see. It’s _delightful_ to see him do that because of Tooru, to be flustered because of Tooru, to- “Yes.” Then he’s reaching out and grabbing the front of Tooru’s sports jacket, pulling him forward roughly until he’s so close Tooru can feel his breath on his face, smell the truffle fries and lager on his breath. It should be gross, but it isn’t. It just sends flutters all through him. “Tooru.” The shiver that runs through Tooru is not from the cold, and he feels so warm, this close, his heart beating quickly at the open intensity on Hajime’s face, his own name ringing in his ears. “Do you want to?”

It would be easy to just lean forward and say yes, it would be _so easy_ and Tooru wants to. Yet another part of him is full of those lingering feelings and thoughts that stayed in the back of his mind for so long, wondering what this really was about, what it would mean, what would happen if they do this. So despite the very real temptation of Hajime being _right there_ , Tooru doesn’t lean forward into a kiss, and instead rests their foreheads together. “Depends on what it means,” he says. It’s easier than a confession, because even if this is the _perfect_ setting for it-

“You think I just kiss anyone?” Hajime laughs, the breath washing away Tooru’s fears like a gentle tide. There is a hesitancy in it, the unspoken _would you?_ hanging in the air between them.

“We _would_ make a cute couple,” Tooru proposes, the nervous feeling abating slightly as Hajime lets go of Tooru’s jacket to smooth his hand over it instead, resting warm against Tooru’s chest.

“That bartender sure seemed to think so,” Hajime says. He’s so handsome when he smiles.

“It would be _so rude_ to prove him wrong,” Tooru agrees with a smile. It melts, the rush of warmth and giddy delight as Hajime foregoes a reply and instead presses forward to kiss him. The piles of doubts and questions and unaddressed emotions at the back of Tooru’s mind go ignored, irrelevant in the strong hold of Hajime around him, the soft press of his lips against Tooru’s, and the security of how Tooru _knows_ that Hajime doesn’t do anything unless he means it.

“We should get back,” Hajime tells him, pulling back and away. Tooru almost whines at him, the loss of contact bringing back the cold autumn air, but Hajime’s hand slipping into his own has him quieting. “It’s been a long day and we’re hit that advanced trail tomorrow morning, and you take _forever_ to get out of bed.”

“That’s why I have you~” Tooru sing songs, resisting the urge to swing their hands like a giddy child. He hesitates for a moment, the bubble in his throat tempting to spill over, then he adds, “Hajime.” 

Watching Hajime nearly trip over his own feet is enough to send Tooru into fits of laughter, the warm soft glow of cider and kisses leaving him woozy with delight as Hajime wrestles him into a headlock. The feeling simply grows when Hajime releases him and gives him a swift kiss to the cheek, and when Tooru turns to look at him, a brilliantly satisfying blush is spread over his face. It’s not perfect, no confession and no discussion of what it all meant, but somehow, that wasn’t needed, when Tooru had Hajime smiling at him like that, so familiar and easy and comfortable. 

They’d figure it out later. They always did. For now it was enough to finish the walk back to their airbnb, the exhaustion from the day and the drinks from dinner finally catching up to them as they tumbled into bed. It was still familiar, the warm comfort of being sprawled in bed with his best friend, Hajime’s soft breathing rustling against Tooru’s scalp as his hand rested against his side. They had the rest of the weekend to talk about this, and perhaps steal a few more kisses along the way. 

Well, hopefully a lot more, Tooru thought as he drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> There really is a hard cider called [bRosé](https://www.citizencider.com/cider/brose/) and it is DELICIOUS. 
> 
> I absolutely did this for self indulgent nonsense because I've been in a Haikyuu! spiral since the new season started.


End file.
